


Beelines and Beater Bats

by KingOfJacks



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bludgers, F/M, Fifth Year, Quidditch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 18:57:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19892719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingOfJacks/pseuds/KingOfJacks
Summary: Harry wanted to argue. It was in his very nature to rebel against an individual forcibly putting him into a situation he didn’t want to be in. But there was a very angry bludger out and about just now ready to cave his unaware skull in and still another one sitting at his feet, his only defense between it and him being the suddenly amused, vindictive former teammate of his, Katie Bell.





	Beelines and Beater Bats

**Beelines and Beater Bats**

**By**

**The Black Hart**

_ CRACK! _

Harry sighed, shaking off the residual buzz that ran up his arm. He twisted his wrist and stretched his arm, waving the beater bat in his hand all about as he did so. He’d spent ages practicing the proper technique for how to hit a bludger last year when he hadn’t had Quidditch. Back then, with the school turned against him and an ever-present fear for his life draped across him, beating angry bludgers senseless on the Quidditch Pitch had been his best form of stress relief. Of course, there was a lot more to it than just swinging the bat around without sense, as Fred and George had explained. It was all about how you squared your shoulders, where your hand was on the bat, and how prepared your diaphragm was. One year, three broken fingers and four dislocations later, Harry largely understood the science behind it. Still he had never fully mastered it, evidenced by unpleasant vibrations that buzzed underneath his skin with every hit of the bat. 

The off kilter growling sound of an oncoming bludger reached his ears. It was streaking back across the sky now, angled with magical accuracy directly at his chest. Harry adjusted his stance, shifting into the proper form and eyeing the crazed ball’s trajectory with a careful eye. That was the second most important thing about playing with bludgers that Fred and George had told him - don’t miss with the bat.

_ CRACK! _

Harry cursed, hopping from foot to foot and shaking his now empty hand wildly to alleviate the odd sensation. The beater bat lay, dropped, on the grass beneath him. He’d misplaced his hand on that one, and his arm had absorbed the majority of the impact rather than the bat. Still cursing, Harry reached down and reclaimed the bat. He hadn’t put too much  _ oomph _ into that one, and it was bound to swing back around any time now.

_ CRACK! _

That was a better one. His arm hadn’t yet recovered from the last swing, so it still sang uncomfortably to him, but he had managed to land a good hit that time around. He had a little longer to recover before it made its way back around to try and smite him again. 

To say fifth year had been a bit of a drag was akin to saying that Hermione enjoyed a good book. That is to say, of course it had been. Everywhere he went, Harry faced constant reminders of this fact. If it wasn’t dark looks from classmates then it was glaring headlines from the day’s paper. If it wasn’t the ever present ache emanating from the back of his hand then it was the even more prevalent headache brought on from his disturbing nightmares. If it wasn’t the constant, never ending fear of the DA being discovered by Umbridge then it was Umbridge’s overbearing presence itself. Fifth year had well and truly sucked, yet here he found himself again devoid of Quidditch - the one thing that may have helped him to better cope with everything.

_ CRACK! _

Harry sighed and rubbed absently at his wrist. He’d been completely wrong with that one and his wrist smarted for the effort. Perhaps it was time to pack it in - his skills seemed to be degrading and he thought that Madame Pomrey might well throttle him if he showed up in the Hospital Wing so soon again. Harry watched as the bludger came speeding back in his direction. The Quidditch Case was on the ground just beside him, the other bludger trying fruitlessly to free itself from its confinement. It’d be uncomfortable and maybe even a little painful, but it’d be easy to pack up everything and head back to Gryffindor Tower.

Perhaps he’d find a quiet place to read one of his books. He didn’t have many, but those he did were well worn from frequent rereads. Hermione would probably be over the moon to know he read as much as he did, but he was a bit embarrassed to show proof of his love affair with the Twilight books.

Harry sighed. A few more hits couldn’t do him  _ too _ much harm. 

_ CRACK! _

“Fancy yourself a beater now, Potter?” 

Harry startled. He’d been too engrossed in his activity - he hadn’t even noticed someone else approaching. He turned and took in the familiarly short stature - and blimey, when had he gotten taller than her - of Katie Bell, one of Gryffindor’s chasers.

She was dressed very casually. No Quidditch uniform or school robes. Just a loose fitting jumper atop tight fitting jeans that stopped an inch shy of her ankles, which were themselves bundled tightly in overly fluffy socks that looks handmade. There was a Gryffindor colored beanie upon her head, within which was held most of her hair, although a few stray locks of black hair did fall in front of her eyes. She was the picture of coziness - a far cry from Harry’s haggard and thin button-down and oversized trousers.

Harry smiled shyly, unwilling to look her in the eye. He still regretted his Quidditch ban, not the least because it had done a great disservice to his team. “Don’t fancy myself much of anything these days,” he muttered, maintaining his smile despite the bite of his word.

Katie shrugged, seeming unperturbed. “It’ll pass,” she assured him. Then she nodded his head at something behind him. “You’ll wanna watch that.”

“Aye?” Harry said, confused. He turned, and there was the bludger speeding back towards him again. Blimey he was far too forgetful around these things. He blamed Dobby for allowing one to knock all the common sense out of him in second year. “Ah,” he understood, falling into the proper form. He was glad to say this was his most proper form yet. He didn’t know how long Katie had been watching him - he hoped not long at all - but he suddenly didn’t want to make a mistake in his form at all.

_ CRACK! _

The bludger sailed through the air, faster and farther than any he had swung at today. Katie gave a low whistle behind him. “Not bad, Potter,” she grinned at him wickedly. “You’d make a fair Beater.”

Harry laughed. “You know Wood said the exact same thing to me the first time he taught me how to play Quidditch.” There were lots of similarities between Katie and Oliver Wood, Harry thought. The accent, first and foremost. It was the way they said ‘Beater’. It always made him smile.

Katie was nodding. “He had a good eye for talent, our Wood.”

Harry smiled but only a bit. “I’m glad he’s not here this year,” he said quietly. “He’d have had my arse for getting banned.”

Again Katie nodded, confirming his words. “Aye, he’d have clobbered you one good time,” she agreed. “The twins too. But then, he’d still be clobbering on Umbridge today for it, wouldn’t he?”

Harry’s smile was wider this time and far more real. “Yeah,” he laughed again. “Yeah, he would.”

She nodded behind him again. “Potter.” It was more of a command than a question, and Harry nearly cursed again. He turned to form up for another swing, but she stopped him saying, “No, hold on.”

She stepped forward, taking the bat from his relatively limp hand in the process and squared up, ready to take her own swing. Harry observed that she was not in any way following the guidelines the Weasley twins had laid out for him, and he thought for a moment about mentioning this to her. Then he remembered that he was talking to Katie Bell, a fierce witch on and off the pitch who was in her seventh year and who was currently holding a blunt object she probably knew how to use very well. He kept his mouth shut.

**_CRACK!_ **

Harry gaped, his eyes tracking the bludger’s path through the air for the few seconds it remained within visible range. Katie turned and smiled delightfully at him, showing no outward signs of discomfort from the spectacular hit beyond the ever so slight rotation of her dainty wrist. Blimey, her wrists were small how had she  _ done  _ that!?

Katie giggled. “Close your mouth, Harry,” she instructed. “You’ll catch flies.”

Harry became suddenly aware of the draft blowing down the back of his throat and promptly picked his jaw up off the floor. He continued to gape openly at her for a long moment, before smiling wistfully and shaking his head. “And you had the nerve to say I could be a Beater?” he asked her incredulously. She laughed. “With you standing there!? Blimey, Katie what are you doing as a Chaser!? I’ve never seen Fred or George hit a bludger like that!”

Katie smiled impishly and gave a hearty shrug, the beater bat still firmly grasped in her hand. “Oh you know. Boys. They see a well made girl with a bat in her hands and they just go lily livered.” She giggled.

Harry laughed more genuinely than he had in weeks. “Well, I think it quite suits you, Katie. You should carry it around all the time.”

Katie’s smile seemed somehow more real this time, and she didn’t look as readily into his eyes as she had been. “Thank you, Harry,” she said softly. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

Harry eyed the sky, seeing no sign of the bludger. “Should be coming back around soon, yeah?” He shrouded his eyes from the sun to better see.

Behind him, Katie shook her head although he could not see. “A few more seconds,” she said with complete surety.

Harry favored her with a lopsided smile. “I don’t remember seeing you in Divination,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re not the only one who blows off steam around here, Potter,” she chided him good-naturedly. “I know my bludger times.”

Harry raised his hands in surrender and bowed to her superior knowledge. He strained his ears, but still did not hear the oncoming bludger. A few more seconds indeed. “Well I don’t mean to infer at all that I could do better, but could I have that back?” he grinned.

To his surprise, Katie shook her head. “Nah, I’ve got a better idea,” she winked at him and lazily tossed the bludger bat in the direction of the Quidditch Case. A look of irritation passed briefly over her face, and she muttered, “Hate this bit.”

Realizing what she was doing, Harry stepped forward. “Katie, I can-”

But she was already in position, ready and waiting for the bludger as it rocketed back with tremendous speed towards the exact person that had sent it flying moments ago. Harry didn’t have time to intervene, and even if he had he wouldn’t have. Catching bludgers was a tricky business - there was an exact technique to it. If he wasn’t in the proper position it could shatter any number of bones in his body.

Katie, though, handled it like a pro. Squatting at the knees, she jumped up and backwards, perfectly catching the momentum of the bludger’s impact in her stomach as she flew back. The impact of the bludger threw her far more quickly into the ground than she otherwise would have been, and she rolled over quickly, holding the aggressive ball underneath her.

“The case, Harry!” she ordered, her voice strained. Harry stood, rooted to the spot for a few too many seconds. The bludger was trying its damndest to escape its new confines, and it was doing funny things to Katie’s body and the way it moved.

Snapping himself out of it - helped in no small part by the knowledge she could easily release the bludger in his direction if she was so inclined - Harry rushed forward, grabbed a tight hold on one of the Quidditch Case’s handles and dragged it over next to his former teammate. She panted for a bit, her arms fiddling with the bludger underneath her as she got a better grip, and then she hauled up and slammed into place, quickly latching its lock before falling down with a series of heavy breaths.

“Always a workout, that,” she commented dryly, removing the suddenly hot beanie from her head. Her dark hair fell in waves down to the center of her back, locks falling haphazardly across her face, neck and chest. Harry tried not to stare at the way they caressed her face. “Righto, go and grab yourself a broom.”

Wrenching his eyes away from her hair, Harry stared dumbly. “What?”

Katie rolled her eyes, a slight smile on her lips. “I know  _ you’ve _ always had the fancy schmancy racing brooms, Potter, but the rest of us make do with school brooms. They’re in the shed. Go and grab one.”

“I know where they are!” he snapped somewhat defensively.

Katie quirked an eyebrow at him. “Good,” she said very slowly, as if she thought he was dim. “Why don’t you prove it by going and grabbing one, yeah?”

Harry ground his teeth and swallowed his retort. There was still a beater bat lying not five feet away that she evidently knew very well how to use. “Katie, I’m banned,” he reminded her, ashamed of how depressed he still sounded about it even weeks later.

Katie rolled her eyes again. “You’re banned from Quidditch, you swot,” she said. “You’re not banned from flying. Go get a broom.”

Harry saw no use in arguing with her further, and so did as she asked, returning momentarily with one of Hogwarts signature Comet 260s. He would admit that the feel of a broomstick in his hand relieved all sorts of stresses even if it wasn’t his Firebolt, but just now he was quite afraid of the smugness that Katie would radiate if he told her that.

“Why did I go and get a broom?” he asked, choosing instead to put a bit of extra pout into his voice.

If Katie noticed, she didn’t comment. It left Harry suddenly worried that ‘pouty’ was just how he naturally sounded these days. In the time since he’d been gone, she’d stood back up and reacquired the bat. “Because I’ve found,” she enunciated clearly, tapping the bat on one of the struggling bludgers before looking up at him with a wicked grin, “that dodging bludgers is far more relaxing than just hitting them.”

Harry’s eyes flitted several times between the caged bludger fighting eagerly against its restraints to Katie who was looking at him just as eagerly as the bludger. He flushed for some unknown reason and when he asked her, “You’re gonna wing bludgers at me?” it came out a bit too squeaky for his liking.

Katie’s lips twitched almost imperceptibly. “Nah,” she said definingly. “I’m just gonna wing the one at you.”

With that said, she reached down and unclasped the very same bludger she had only just a few moments ago locked up. It rocketed into the sky with renewed vigor, angling quickly back towards the ground in a desperate bid for revenge against its former captor. Katie met its challenge with equal if not greater fervor and the resounding  _ CRACK! _ of her bat making contact sent the bludger well out of his view again.

“Get to flying, Potter,” she commanded, impish delight dancing in her eyes. I’ll send it flying towards you on the ground or in the air, and I reckon you’re a right sight better at dodging on a broom.”

Harry wanted to argue. It was in his very nature to rebel against an individual forcibly putting him into a situation he didn’t want to be in. But there was a very angry bludger out and about just now ready to cave his unaware skull in and still another one sitting at his feet, his only defense between it and him being the suddenly amused, vindictive former teammate of his, Katie Bell. Harry mounted his broom and took off.

It was...transcendent. The last time he had flown had been weeks ago, and the memory had been greatly soured by Umbridge’s cruel ban. Up here with a broom between his legs again - even one as comparatively sluggish as the Comet 260 - Harry remembered just how much he loved this and just how much he needed it. He swooped and dived, twisted and turned, rose and fell. The bludger came and it went. He heard the continuous  _ CRACK! _ of Katie’s bat and he felt the rush of wind as the bludger passed close by his person. But it was no match for him. Up here in the air, Harry felt very strongly that he could have taken on all of Voldemort and his cronies at once and come out on top. But above all that, above the rush of wind and the passings of bludgers and the cracks of bats, Harry heard constantly the laughter of Katie Bell. It was...transcendent.

Lyrical and light. Happy and harmonious. It was, dare he say, positively bell like as it resonated across the pitch, always finding its way into his ear despite all the reasons for it not to. And it was then, hearing it filter through his ears once more, that Harry pulled out of his sudden dive, the tips of his boots skimming the lightly trimmed grass of the pitch. In a motion so swift and final that he brought a breeze with him, Harry turned sharply enough to cut off all of his speed, hopped off his broom, grabbed hold of Katie’s waste and kissed her, hard. All in a single motion.

They stayed like that for the neve rending eternity of four and a half seconds before Harry released her and took two sudden steps back, his face as red as Ron’s hair. “I don’t know why I did that,” he stammered.

Katie stared at him for a long time, her hair ruffled by the breeze that had accompanied him, before laughing loud and clear. She closed the gap between them, took a tight hold on the back of his head and drew him down into another equally eternal kiss. “Don’t overthink it,” she smiled into his ear after they separated.

Harry smiled. And then the bludger hit him square in the back of his head and he fell like a stone onto the grass of the pitch.

Katie blinked stupidly at his prone form, quickly pulling out her wand and casting a stabilizing spell on his wound. It would last long enough to get him to Madame Pomfrey. She took a moment pout. “Damn,” she cursed. “Forgot about the bludger.”


End file.
